SAMAIND

It had been two days since I started training the governors' daughters who had come to see Mehran, among them Jasrah and Mahlika—the daughters of the regional governors. They were absorbing the lessons very well.

Therefore, I focused entirely on running errands and bringing whatever was required from him; I was at the forefront.

"Ikram! Someone wants to speak with you in the historical garden." "Hey, Inam, who is it?" I asked quietly. "Someone named Sarwat." I quickly turned around, checking to see if my guards were following me.

I let out a sigh and headed swiftly toward the historical garden. As soon as I entered, I caught sight of him standing there, his back turned to me. "Sarwat! Do you realize the risk you’ve brought upon yourself? Where is Noman?"

He turned around and locked eyes with me. A sudden churn in my stomach made me unable to control the nausea, and I covered my mouth. "Meehhh! Meehhh!! Mehheeraan!!!" I quickly covered my mouth, burst into tears, and dropped to my knees. He knelt down and lifted my head. "Because I am useless, you forgot my name! Noman Anwarulkharim! That is my full name. The representative of Sultan Mehran. Thank you very much, I suppose that’s a fortune in itself. I also apologize for what I am about to tell you, but I have come so we can return home." He paused, looking directly at me.

"Forgive me! The day they choose his wives is the day we will leave this town. Furthermore, I will not force you to come with me, but I will return you to your parents, since you have the right to live with Sultan Aamaan Mehran, or choose to live with the people of Gezira. If I pressure you, then forgive me. Thank you."

I grabbed his hand and said, "Please spare me, why are you apologizing? I will follow you; I will follow you to see Airan. I will follow you to see our home. I will follow you because you are the only one in my heart. By Allah, not a single day has risen and set without me weeping over my loss of you. Noman, I love you; let's leave today, even right now."

He shook his head and said, "Forgive me! Airan has passed away." My weeping stopped instantly. My mouth fell wide open. Tears streamed down my face—one after another—and I didn't even notice when he left. I sat there with my mouth open, completely dazed.

I was lifted up and turned around, my mouth still open. As I looked at him and the guards who had been deployed to search for Noman, he pulled my head against his chest and hugged me. Only then did I find the release of a deep sigh, accompanied by heavy tears. I wept bitterly. From the time I cried like that until we entered the palace, I didn't cry again; my tears dried up, and a fever set in. I lay down, severely ill.

For three whole days, I didn't speak a single word, consumed by worldly grief. Whenever I looked at him, he evoked my pity, so the very first thing I said to him when I finally spoke was: "Do not place me among good things; I am a cursed fate! I may not turn out to be your good intention. I apologize to you because I am not a permanent resident.

The pattern of my fate brought me to your empire. Whether I am here or not, take care of your people, for they need you. Mehran, governance requires serenity and a complete understanding of the people. And I also beg you, accept the religion of Islam; you will find peace within your heart. But there is no compulsion, for a just ruler—even if not a Muslim—is guided by Allah, whereas a Muslim ruler without justice will see his reign destroyed by Allah!"

I moved closer to him, took his hand, and placed it against my face, saying, "Mehran! I am happy to live with you without harm or transgression. Mehran, forgive me, the truth is I was not made for this place; my life and my happiness belong to another world."

I struggled to speak, then slowly told him about the death of my younger sister, while still hiding the truth of my intention to escape, because—by Allah—I genuinely pitied him. Then I brought out some documents I had compiled regarding the corruption taking place within his palace and handed them over.

I explained the dire state of his kingdom, pointing out how his people were being oppressed under his rule. We stared at each other before I began repeating the words we had exchanged when we went to Madinatul Mah: "I am a woman of no value; dogs and horses follow me everywhere. Mehran, look, I am about to embark on a long journey. Mehran, teach me how to protect myself and my health. Sultan, thank you very much. Sultan, thank you very much."

He stared intensely at me, grabbed my hand, and read the message in my eyes with profound anguish. "Don't you dare start what you are planning to do! Don't you dare initiate something that will lead us to settle scores between us! Do not let jealousy result in bloodshed. I will give you the most precious and dignified happiness. Stay here, and I will amaze you and make you happy."

His hand moved to my stomach as he said, "I will give you everything, including my very soul. Keep Airan for me, keep your father and my father for me, Mehran will give you..."

"If it comes down to my very life, I will give it to you, do you hear me? And as for Islam, I agree, I will embrace it, just don't you dare move away from this empire—just when I thought I’d finally find someone bold enough to cross my borders to come take you, it turns out you are the one crossing borders to leave. Why are you so stubborn? Why won't you understand what..."

He stared at me, wanting to speak, but no words came except stammering, and he just kept looking at me. I hated seeing him like this. He pulled me toward his bed, sat me down, and we looked at each other. Neither of us could speak; we just stared into each other's eyes. If his chest were to be opened, surely nothing else would be written there except her name.

She was imprinted on the walls of his heart. He took her hand, massaging it gently as he watched her close her eyes, tears flowing. He found himself kissing the side of her cheek, wiping away her tears with his hand. He pulled her against his chest, and they lay together as he stroked her back.

"Why won't you just endure? Our destiny is the same," he said softly. I raised my head, looked at him, and shook my head in refusal. He patted my back, placing both hands firmly right where my head rested against his chest, pressing it tightly so I could feel his heartbeat deep within my soul.

"My chest hurts!" The way he spoke in such a wounded tone touched my pity. I placed both my hands around him and hugged him tightly, listening even closer to the sound of his heartbeat.

"Just stay with me," he said softly, more tenderly than ever before. "Mehran, the pattern of my destiny lies somewhere else. Please forgive me."

"Stop apologizing to me! I have prepared happiness for us; look, my heart here is beating far faster than it ever did before."

I couldn't hold back my tears, nor could I fully understand everything I felt for him, but despite all that, I was going to leave; I wouldn't stay with him. He turned me away from his chest so that I was straddling him, locking his gaze into mine. "Secret one," he whispered from deep in his throat, adding, "Heydar," I replied softly.

He brought our noses together so they touched. I reached my hands around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair, watching how troubled he was as well. "Mehran! My younger sister, whom I struggled so hard to give a good life to, has passed away. I have no one except Allah, no protection other than His. Why won't you fulfill our destiny? We made a promise to each other; why would you use the force of power to stop lovers from being together? As a just ruler, do not let selfishness cloud this situation."

With that, I withdrew my body from him, got down off the bed entirely, and walked completely out of the house toward the outskirts of the town. I walked slowly until I reached where I expected to be.

I sat under a tree and burst into tears. The sun was scorching, but the shade felt burning too; that is how my chest felt. It seemed as though his chest felt pain while mine had no words left. "Baba Uwaisul Qarni!" I stroked my body and realized the flute was missing. Another wave of weeping overtook me as I softly called out his name. The sudden chill I began to feel made me quickly close my eyes while shedding bitter tears.

"Welcome, my grandchild. Come here." I quickly opened my eyes to see him, moved closer, and rested my head upon his shoulder, weeping and sobbing. "Now, please stop! What are you crying for? Are you crying for Sultan Mehran, or are you crying for Noman Anwarulkharim?"

I couldn't speak, but I raised my head to look at him. "Your eyes are telling me the truth. Why won't you understand your own desires? Why do you want to make everyone cry? Do not give anyone a reason to make you cry, for one day you will be made to cry in return. So please, forgive and embrace your destiny. You are on the verge of your first success, yet you are about to ruin everything. Look at the bigger picture."

My weeping intensified as I looked at him. Slowly, he stood up, brought water in a silver bowl, and gave it to me. I took it gently, drank deeply of the ice-cold, delicious water, and he said to me: "Look at the gravity of the reason why he told you those words; it is plain for all to see. Let Noman go back home, for that is what Allah has decreed. Your destiny is with Mehran." "No, Baba, this is not right; this is pure selfishness. How can I part ways with a man I have been with since childhood?"

"Very well then, may Allah establish what is best." After that, he said nothing more to me, except to carry me back to where I had been, holding the silver bowl. I stood up and headed back into the royal palace. There, I saw people running about in search of me.

He was standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, staring directly at me. I found myself unable to walk; my legs felt heavy as lead due to the probing gaze he gave me. As soon as I reached him, he turned his back to me and said, "Rakshan, take her to the secluded chambers." Without objection, they escorted me to the forbidden hall and tossed me inside the room. Someone rose and lifted me up. "Take heart, Ikram! You have fought a brave fight like no one else could, yet right at the very end, you have fallen off our path."

"Tell me, why did you make me do this job?" She took my hand and looked at me. "At first, I wanted to deceive you, as is customary for anyone of royal blood, so I wove you into Aamaan's destiny. But later, I realized you were the only one capable of terrifying people I couldn't frighten. The day he demanded you as his representative, I realized he had reached the stage where I needed to stop you. You have completed everything for me, but..." (#Mai_Dambu — Book one is free, books two and three are paid: 200 Naira via bank transfer 0472282105, or via MTN recharge card to numbers +2347035133148 or 08130269641)

SAMAIND (Book 1, Page 36)

Panicked, I started following the path where I saw him vanish, running in a desperate hurry until I almost caught up to him, screaming his name: "NOMAN!!!!" I shrieked his call. I was violently yanked back, turned around, and as I tried to look at him, I turned back shouting, "NOMAN! Please come!"

While I called out, Mehran dragged me along. Seeing that I was about to draw a crowd, he put me to sleep by pressing my neck, hoisted me onto his shoulder, and we entered the palace, which was not far from the market. "Make sure you search for him! Do not let him live!"

He headed toward the door leading into the courtyard where guards were stationed everywhere. Seeing him carrying a woman, they immediately bowed before him. He carried Ikram deep into the palace, his anger mounting. Indeed, the time had come to stop her from running after any other man, especially since he now knew she had encountered that worthless wretch.

He laid her down and paced restlessly back and forth from his chambers to the lounge, waiting for Fudail. He felt like going out to do the job himself, but since that wasn't possible, he just fumed. --- Fudail searched everywhere for anyone resembling Noman but found nothing, ultimately returning empty-handed.

Flashback: Oman

Azizatul Nissah stared at him and said, "You have come with a grave matter, but I will help you, because getting to where Ikram is won't be easy. However, I will make you one promise: I will help you escape and flee to SAMAIND, where she is inside the royal palace serving as a maid. But to be honest, my older brother and Nawwas will exploit you rather than let you have her.

My brother loves her, and I love Nawwas, and he loves her. But if they lose her, they will live in peace, and you will get her safely. If you wait until they figure this out, they will surely try to kill you."

He let out a sigh, looked at Sarwat, and said, "I agree." Thus, they made their preparations and slipped out past the outskirts of the town. The boat journey they were supposed to take over two days miraculously took them only a single day and a half. The very day they arrived in town was the day Mehran took Ikram to Madinatul Mah.

He had wanted to follow them, but it was impossible because Sarwat stopped him. "Why are you stopping me from following her?" "Ikram is with Sultan Aamaan! If you dare follow them, I swear he will tear your flesh to pieces and keep her from you. Earlier, I heard some guards talking about how, because she messed up as his representative, his mother tortured her—which is why no one knows how she even attained the status of representative. Please, remember I am an orphan; I have no one in this world except you and her. If anything happens to you both, I could die."

He stared intently at Sarwat with pity, suppressing his inner anguish until he entered the Sultan's palace posing as a caretaker for livestock. He heard everything about Mehran and Ikram, and the accounts he heard crushed his spirit. Would she ever agree to return to him after hearing what everyone was saying?

When Mehran's carriage passed by, he had assumed she was inside it, but later noticed nothing was in the carriage. That was when he turned around and traced the carriage back to its origin, catching sight of the look exchanged between her and Mehran. It burned him with jealousy; she had seemingly forgotten him entirely and plunged into another man's life, living in a palace of romance.

Even when she caught sight of him, the look she gave him was one of resentment and hatred—not the look of "I have come to take you back."

That was why, the moment she saw him, he had quickly vanished from her sight—a tragic sight indeed. He walked away with tears streaming down his eyes, filled with regret that he had ever left her behind, believing Allah would grant him someone better. Yet he had dragged himself here without knowing the state of her heart.

Her voice and screams were deeply embedded in his memory: "Noman, forgive me, let's go back to where we came from."

He wiped his tears, saying, "I cannot go back. I will stay until she herself tells me to go back, but I will stand by her. Please, whether I am alive or dead, protect her." "Why do you say that? Why are you trying to break my heart? Please, do not give up so soon."

"Jealousy resulting in bloodshed! I cannot turn away from the one my heart lives for. Even if I lose my life, I will take her and we will leave this region. From now until the day the king's wives are chosen, keep watch—I will find her." He spoke, turned around, and plunged into the wilderness.

"Noman! Noman, do not leave me behind, I love you!" I cried out, widening my eyes at Mehran, who was staring at me. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was panting, his chest burning with a fire only he understood the agony of. He picked up a cup of water that had been set aside, drained it completely, and smashed the cup to the ground. He staggered toward me, staring down at me.

"You dare insult my honor before my people? You dare transgress my boundaries? Indeed, you will pay. That dog you call Noman will be chopped into pieces right here on the platters of Samaind, and his flesh will be fed to the dogs!"

"Indeed, you have made a mistake you will regret for the rest of your days, Aamaan! You say you will kill my lover? You say you will place his head on a tray for the dogs to eat his flesh? May the Almighty grant you success; you were born with arrogance and absolute power, but I swear by Allah, I will show you a far greater arrogance and pride if you dare touch my lover!"

I fell silent, staring at him before sinking to both knees, joining my hands together, and saying, "Punish me with whatever you wish, do to me whatever you desire, for the sake of the love you bear your parents—let me be the ransom for Noman's life. If there is anything else you require of you..."

His lips trembled as he stared at me, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. He sat down in front of her, watching her weep. Indeed, he had made a grave mistake keeping her as his secret one.

Why wasn't his heart fair to him? Why couldn't he just accept living without her? She was weeping over someone else? Not for him. He stared at her, seeing that she was truly crying for Noman, and his heart felt as though it would drop out of his chest. He wanted to speak, but it felt as though air was trapped in his chest rising up to his throat. He stared at her, and with great difficulty, Allah gave him the power to utter: "You are crying because of him?"

She raised her bloodshot eyes, locked them onto his, and replied, "How can I not cry? For ten months I was in one world while he was in another. Aamaan, why shouldn't I cry for him! Please."

He shook his head, stood up, and declared, "I forbid any other man from having you for all eternity." "What kind of selfishness is this? If your struggle is just to preserve my virginity, take it! Just leave our lives alone," I shouted at the top of my lungs.

He dropped the cup he was holding, turned to look at me, and as I stood there, I ripped the dress from my body all the way down. I began unwrapping the cloth binding my chest as he watched in utter astonishment, until I unwound it completely and it fell to the floor. I stripped off everything, staring at him.

I dropped to my knees on the floor, loosened my hair, and threw his words from yesterday right back at him: "Even though I have no value, and I have discarded whatever worth I had, let me live with him—or else the consequences that follow will not be pleasant for you."

He sneezed in disgust and stormed out of the room in a rage, heading toward his mother's quarters. As soon as he arrived, she handed him a jar of fermented wine. It had been a long time since he last drank, but today, consumed by anguish, he craved a drink in hopes of finding sleep. So he began gulping it down until he drained it completely, then closed his eyes. He wanted to speak, but couldn't; he hated burdening her with his sorrow since she never taught him how to express his own pain.

What he knew was rooted in solitude, and he was certain that solitude would be his end. He kept analyzing what had happened. On one side, her figure haunted him—even though she wasn't exceptionally renowned or voluptuous in a way that commanded attention, yet there was something deeply significant about her that gave her a unique aura. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, as if vividly picturing her firm chest and the tiny navel dimpling her smooth lower abdomen—whether pregnant or not, who knew?—before his gaze drifted down. Her thighs melded seamlessly together, and as she turned, he envisioned the width of her back as though it had been custom-sculpted.

He closed his eyes with a pleasurable smile, watching her phantom image tease him. He raised his head, watching the way she moved around him, and found himself overcome by a strange sensation. He slowly rose. "Where are you going, Mehran?"

He shook his head at her, strode out of her chambers, and headed toward his own. Upon entering, he found her dressed again. He scowled, collapsed onto the mat, and fell fast asleep from there.

His sleep was filled with nightmares: Noman running away with her, while he thrashed about searching for her in vain until he grew exhausted. The same dream replayed in his mind until the effects of the liquor wore off and he woke up to find her lying there.

From that day onward, he kept a close eye on Ikram, whose health deteriorated further. She ate nothing, and whenever she stood up for prayers, she would collapse from starvation and lack of food. Yet her sheer stubbornness prevented her from letting go of her ambition—she simply wanted out of the palace.

Two days later, she was officially granted the position of his representative. Among the female servants who gained their freedom through this was Inam, who had been under the control of Sultanah Hoyam. Ever since she became his representative, he never gave her a moment of peace. Every document he wrote or decree he issued had to be written by her; sometimes when messages arrived, she was the one who had to read them to him. When he realized this, he invented nighttime reading sessions, ordering old chronicles of his dynasty to be brought out for her to read. She wasn't even allowed to get tired; the moment she did, he would unleash a storm of anger, clicking his tongue and grumbling until she was forced to sit close to him—ostensibly to stop her from thinking about Noman, though that alone didn't satisfy him, as he made sure to issue a strict decree forbidding her from ever leaving the palace grounds.

When the daughters of the regional governors of SAMAIND were sent in, she was the one entertaining him with conversation as he sat listening, while he completely ignored them as if they didn't even exist.

Summary

The narrative revolves around Ikram, a young woman trapped within the massive, politically charged palace of Sultan Aamaan Mehran of Samaind. Despite her new responsibilities training the regional governors' daughters and serving as the Sultan's chief representative, Ikram’s heart remains tethered to her true love, Noman Anwarulkharim. Noman miraculously infiltrates the empire with the help of allies like Azizatul Nissah to rescue her, bringing news of her tragic loss—the death of her younger sister, Airan.

Ikram confronts Mehran, exposing palace corruption, confessing her love for Noman, and desperately begging for her freedom, even resorting to stripping off her clothes in defiance. Mehran, deeply infatuated and tormented by intense jealousy, refuses to let her go, vowing to execute Noman. Torn between her inescapable destiny within the royal courts and her unbreakable bond with Noman, Ikram spirals into physical exhaustion and emotional turmoil, while Mehran grapples with his own possessive obsession and the intoxicating weight of absolute power.

Description

The text is an excerpt from a Northern Nigerian Hausa romance/political drama novel (specifically written in the popular Littattafan Soyayya or modern Hausa pulp fiction style, characterized by the tag #Mai_Dambu). It features a rich tapestry of tropes common to the genre: grand royal courts (daular sarauta), political intrigue, intense emotional melodrama, star-crossed lovers, psychological confinement, cultural power dynamics, and internal identity struggles. The prose moves fluidly between first-person perspective ("nice akan gaba") and third-person narrative shifts, capturing both Ikram's internal anguish and Mehran's volatile, autocratic mindset.

Analytics

• Character Dynamics & Power Asymmetry: The relationship between Ikram and Sultan Mehran highlights classic power imbalances. Mehran holds absolute political and physical authority over the empire, yet he is utterly powerless against Ikram's emotional rejection. Conversely, Ikram possesses zero physical force against the state apparatus, yet wields immense psychological leverage over the Sultan through her unapologetic defiance.
• Thematic Motifs of Fate vs. Free Will: The narrative constantly plays with the concept of kaddara (destiny/fate). Characters repeatedly invoke destiny to justify their actions—Baba Uwaisul Qarni and Sarwat urge acceptance of fate, whereas Ikram and Noman fight frantically against predetermined geopolitical boundaries.
• Psychological Repression & Coping Mechanisms: Both primary figures manifest trauma physically. Ikram responds to grief and captivity through fasting strikes, fevers, and fainting spells, while Mehran retreats to royal isolation, alcohol consumption, and obsessive surveillance.
• Genre Conventions: The excerpt displays classic markers of Hausa popular literature—abrupt scene transitions, flashback insertions (Oman sequence), emotional hyperbole, and direct commercial engagement with readers (book pricing and contact lines embedded mid-text).

Comments

• Pacing and Narrative Structure: The transition between past events (the flashbacks involving Noman and Sarwat in Oman) and the immediate palace reality in Samaind is somewhat abrupt, which is typical of serialized Hausa pulp fiction meant for fast-paced serial reading.
• Character Agency: Ikram stands out as a fiercely resilient protagonist. Rather than acting as a passive damsel in distress, she actively subverts royal decorum, confronts a tyrant, exposes systemic corruption, and utilizes radical forms of protest (such as stripping) to assert her bodily autonomy against an absolute ruler.
• Nuance in Antagonism: Sultan Mehran is not portrayed as a flat, one-dimensional villain. His internal monologues reveal deep vulnerability, loneliness, and psychological dependency on Ikram, making his tyranny stem more from desperate possessiveness than pure malice.

Conclusions

The excerpt paints a vivid portrait of a love triangle caught in the gears of an unforgiving imperial machine. Ikram's unwavering loyalty to Noman in the face of royal supremacy underscores the enduring human desire for personal freedom over institutional luxury. As the narrative stands, Ikram is hopelessly cornered within Mehran's gilded cage—stripped of physical liberty yet spiritually defiant—leaving the ultimate resolution hanging in the balance between bloodshed, political reform, and tragic sacrifice.